Into the Depths
by LadyxShihoun
Summary: Hana and her daughter Jamila finally have another chance for a real, peaceful, life. But when Hana discovers a mysterious box, she realizes that the contents within are not normal and discovers a supernatural being that could be the end of their new life. OC x Bughuul


_Into the Depths_

_Chapter one_

I have to keep telling myself that this was for the best. Yes, it was very sudden and maybe there could've been a more sane solution; but when your under so much pressure that your soul literally begins to crack, some people need to react instead of thinking. And now here I am on the other side of the United States, somewhere secluded and surrounded by an ocean of trees and the occasional mountain-a place where he won't find me or my daughter, Jamila. I felt like the worst mother for allowing him to hurt us for so long. I could only hope she would allow herself to accept the change. Though her six year old spirit is rather energetic and at times eccentric, her body, unfortunately, is very fragile. Since she was born health complicities have constantly befallen her. Perhaps this new environment would be refreshing for her.

The new house we moved into is quite large, on the internet it seemed much smaller. On the inside there are two floors (not including the basement and attic) enough bedrooms to fit in three more people, a spacious study, a living room, a full kitchen, a dining room, and two full bathrooms. The previous tenants of the house had left behind a lot of furniture; I was told that they had left the house suddenly and were still in the process of moving when they were brutally murdered. I stand on the driveway, examining the exterior of the home. Whoever built the house is very talented, this is the kind of materialistic item that's hard to say no to-I'm still in shock that I could buy something so beautiful for such a cheap price. I could've stared at the house for hours on but the sound of my child trying desperately to lift a box disarrays them.

"Hold on sweetie, let me get that for you." I say, quickly rushing to her side to grab the cardboard box from the ground.

"Thanks mamma." she responds with a toothy smile, I try smiling back but I know it is weary and forceful. I take the box inside the house, Jamila following me, and place it with the others all neatly stacked in the living room. There weren't that many boxes, since the move was drastically sudden, but there was enough to make the empty house feel like a home. All I need now are bed sets, and other personal/hygienic necessities.

"How long are we gonna be here mamma?" Jamila asks and as I turn to give her my attention her eyes are staring out the wide living room window.

"Hopefully for a very long time." I say also glancing out the window to see what could be so interesting about a bunch of trees.

"Like...until your old and smell like prunes," she giggles, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Well yeah, but I don't wanna smell like prunes."

* * *

I order Chinese food, my daughter really likes the sweet and sour chicken and chicken fried rice- well anything that involves chicken she loves. Afterwards we bathe together and I manage to get her in her pajamas for bed. Moving, for children and adults, can be stressful, and I'm not sure why but children always seem to have a burst of energy whenever being in a new environment. At least that's the case with Jamila. We've moved a lot of times before and she always had this barely manageable adrenaline. Luckily, I've learned techniques to put her to sleep. The only thing I know she's willing to sit still for are visual entertainment- and not just any tv show or movie. For reasons unknown she's seems to be really into Marvel. So I pop the X-men movie into the DVD player and she sat on the sofa silently allowing herself to be engulfed by the film.

While I wait for her to doze off, I do a little cleaning around the house. I begin to unpack some of the boxes and dust some of the left behind furniture. I sweep out the master bedroom and begin setting up an air mattress. I stick the air pump tube into the designated entrance and was ready to turn on the electronic pump device when I hear a sound above me. I pause completely and listen. It's more of a heavy thumping sound, like a man's footsteps. If someone were attempting to sneak in the house they wouldn't be making so much noise, yet I didn't know an animal that could make a noise that defined and loud. The footsteps continue for another minute, the sound specifically concentrates exactly above my head, and then it stops. Hastily I go to my child to see if she is still distracted. When I reach the living room her eyes are still glued to the television screen. I proceed to the pile of boxes searching through them until I found a flashlight. Then I went to where the attic should be. I carefully pull the string down, the stairs leading to the attic drop slowly. I cautiously climb the stairs and allow just my head to peek into the attic, my flashlight illuminates enough for me to realize that there was no person or animal there. And this is a smaller attic, even though the house is big. What is lying on the attic surface is a dark box with the same dark covering. It couldn't have been the source of the noise, and so I deem the house is a bit older and contains awkward unusual sounds.

The sun's soft early rays wake me. Jamila is still soundly asleep so I leave her where she is to start breakfast. As I walk through the hallway towards the stairs to the first floor, I look up and see the attic entrance. I remember the box I had seen last night and found it queer that it was left behind. I thought the family was able to bring back many of their possessions, excluding heavier furniture. Curiosity taking over, I pull down the attic stair case and go up into the dust infested area. The box is black, and written on a white label are the words "Home Movies". I take off the covering and my eyes widen in surprise to see a super 8 film projector-something that was not only older than me but was difficult to get in this advanced era. I take out the camera to discover the film reels beneath it, all the standard eight millimeter footage with labels. My father used to own a super 8 camera when he thought, during his younger years, he would be a film director. He showed me how to set up all the equipment that had to do with super 8 footage, just incase his dream ever decided to influence me as well. I look at the labels and notice each one has the year of the films creation; with the exception of the older videos, I find it odd that the more recent films were still shot with the super 8 camera.

I bring the box to the study room, leaving it on a desk until I have extra time to roam through it. I decide breakfast is going to be a little special since this is a new environment and community. I make chocolate chip waffles and cheesy eggs, and this would be the one day I would allow Jamila to take in so many calories so early in the morning. By the time Jamila came to the dining room, the table is full of her favorite breakfast meal and juice.

"What's the occasion!" She says ecstatically.

* * *

"I have to go to school tomorrow?" Jamila whines for the fourth time today.

"I have to go to work tomorrow, Jamila, I can't leave you alone for six hours. Plus, I'm working in the same building so I won't be far if you need me,"

"But...I'm scared..." I glance down at her as her hold on my hand tightens. I thought taking a walk through the neighborhood would help me break it down to her that we, seriously, will be living here for a long long time. But Jamila is so used to moving around that, I guess, it's hard for her to understand that we'll actually be staying in this place.

"I've heard that the students are very polite," I say,

"But the big kids will be there too," the school was an all grade school (meaning it's goes from pre-school to high school) and it's reasonable they do that. The community has a small population. There are only 30 kids in Jamila's whole grade.

"They won't bother you, promise," she smiles weakly.

As the house darkens I begin to turn on some lights. Another way to get Jamila to sleep is by filling up her belly. After dinner, the moment her head touched a pillow she was out. With a mug full of tea in hand I go back into the study to set up the projector. There was already a white sheet pinned to a wall so after setting up the footage all I had to do was turn it on. The first film I chose is called "pool party '66". The setting is in the backyard of a family's home. As the label read the family was having a pool event. A few children splash each other in the floaty littered pool. The woman, I guess is the mother, is playing with the children while the father brings out bowls of diced mixed fruit. Everyone in the film seem genuinely happy and I allow some of that emotion to soak into me. I almost began to cry, just wondering how my life became this way.

My parents were poor but did everything they could to make sure I got the education I needed and was cared for to the best of their ability. I was making all the right choices; I got into a good university on a full scholarship, I was an A student, I was making enough money to provide extra necessities for myself so my parents could have a break. I wanted to become someone who could take care of myself, my family, and my parents. My path split into two when I met him. Lucius J. Daring was a wild twenty five year old who probably knew more about partying then he knew algebra. Lucius wasn't the most charismatic, nor brilliant (when it comes to intelligence), but he was kind in his own odd ways and though he could never completely understand me he was always there when I needed him-even when I didn't call him. Ultimately, he was my downfall. He got me pregnant my last year of school, fortunately I was able to graduate and receive my degree before Jamila came along. I was in love with him so when he asked me to marry him I accepted. He met my parents and other family members-they all accepted him. He is an orphan so there was no one to meet on his side. After graduation he decided to go into the military to support his family and for a couple of years everything really was great. I remember my last moment with him while he was still compassionate and loving. I had kissed him goodbye as he headed off to Afghanistan.

Like always we kept in touch through Skype, which is when I began to notice the changes. During a mission a few of Lucius's teammates had been blown to pieces, and he nearly lost an arm. He came home within a few months, and I remember smelling him way before he could even walk through the front door-he reeked of booze. The first week he was awfully quiet, and was annoyed every time I tried to talk with him. The third week he became very aggressive, knocking things over, punching holes in the wall, screaming till his throat couldn't take it due to nightmares. It had been a month of intense arguments, drunken episodes, and a series of broken things when he became violent towards me. For years I'd constantly told myself that it was my fault, that I was doing something wrong, that he was just having difficulties dealing with his frightening experience in Afghanistan. I had lost multiple jobs, we continuously moved, I was having trouble keeping bills payed and at the same time managing my husband's mood. It wasn't until he hit my child that I realized it was time to go. And with mentally unstable soldiers you can't just leave town and expect it to be over. I had tried it, and he found me. By then my parents had died in a car crash and he knew where all my family members lived. I had to get ghost- meaning when the opportunity arises grab only necessary things and drive far far away, with no traces, and never turn back.

Thinking about my past now got me crying. I reach towards the projector to flip it off but then it suddenly goes black. A second later the sunny setting is replaced by night. The camera faces towards pool chairs, a long rope attached to them that crosses to the other side of the pool. Tied to the chairs were people, and one by one the ropes were pulled so that the chairs fell into the water and the people began to drown.

"What the fuck?" my stare intensifies, trying to decipher if this is real. But adding special effects to super 8 footage is extremely difficult-if it's even possible at all. This had to be real. I turn off the footage, stuff all the equipment back in the box and immediately take the box to the trash can outside, thankfully trash day is tomorrow. I didn't have room for tragedy in this new life, I'm still trying to get over my old life. With the box disposed of I went back into the house being sure to lock all the doors and windows before cuddling next to my six year old girl. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had seen.


End file.
